by Toby Neal
“We’re so sorry.” Pono’s rumbling bass added pathos to the words as the distraught mother covered her face with her hands.
Lei stepped inside a stone-flagged entry with large ceramic pots of ruffled orchids on either side of the door. A sunken great room opened before them with a floor-to-ceiling swath of windows framing a view that led the eye down a grassy field to the cobalt sea. Whitecaps flecked the surface of the ocean, reflecting clouds scudding by.
Lei wished she were anywhere else other than in this elegant room as the grief of Makoa’s mother battered at her own emotions. “Come sit down.”
She put her hand on Gail’s shoulder, and with Pono on the other side, they guided the woman to a beige suede couch facing the windows. Lei felt anxiety tighten her chest as Mrs. Simmons gave way, sobbing on Pono’s bulky shoulder.
She got up and went in search of tissues, her eyes taking in the glossy kitchen, hallway with rooms opening off it, a bathroom lined in shells and coral-embedded tile. She grabbed the box of tissues she found on the back of the toilet and returned to sit beside Mrs. Simmons with a glass of water from the kitchen. Finally, when she had wound down a bit, Mrs. Simmons mopped her eyes and straightened up.
“My husband should be here soon. I also called our daughters on Oahu. They’re both students at University of Hawaii. They’re going to come home as soon as they can get flights.”
“So Makoa wasn’t in college?” Lei asked.
“No. He never went. His pro surfing career began as soon as he turned eighteen, so that was his priority.”
“Did he live here? With you?”
“Yes. He wanted his own place, but I argued that this house was so big, and empty now, and he was on the road so much with contests, that it was no trouble for him to stay in his old room when he was home. Though he often was over at his girlfriend’s. Shayla Cummings.” Gail’s mouth tightened.
“Tell me about his relationship with Shayla,” Lei probed gently. She wanted to get a little more background on the striking young woman who seemed so devoted to Makoa.
“She’s a bikini model. Works at a surf shop when she’s not doing modeling.” Mrs. Simmons blew her nose. “The girl is nice enough, but I wanted more for Makoa. Now there won’t be more. Of anything.”
Mrs. Simmons gazed out the window, balling the tissue in her hands. It was like a switch had been tripped, and she fell silent and still, all animation gone from her face.
The front door flew open so hard it banged against the wall. Mrs. Simmons jumped as Lei and Pono stood, turning to face Makoa Simmons’s father.
“Who’s this, Gail?” Rory Simmons had a booming cannon of a voice and the bright red face of someone with high blood pressure. His thinning brown hair was disordered, and he was panting with emotion.
“Detectives Kaihale and Texeira of the Maui Police Department,” Pono answered smoothly, coming forward with his hand outstretched. His burly presence projected calm authority, and the agitated man—a leathery, heavier version of the young man whose body they had found on the beach—took his hand and shook it automatically. Lei hung back a bit as he came down into the seating area, leaning over to embrace his wife.
“My God. Our son,” he said brokenly. She clung to him, weeping, as he sat beside her on the couch.
Lei and Pono took a couple of soft, suede-upholstered chairs across from them. The light from the bank of windows cruelly lighted every wrinkle and gleam of wetness on the faces of the older couple in front of her.
Lei tried to imagine the magnitude of losing a young-adult child in the prime of his life, when she’d been so recently felled by the grief of a miscarriage. She didn’t even know when she’d be ready to try getting pregnant again. There was no greater risk for the heart than having a child.
Finally Rory Simmons turned his attention to them. “Why are you here? Makoa drowned surfing, right?”
“Yes. We’re here to officially notify you of his death—and to find out anything that might be relevant to it.” Lei spoke carefully, recognizing an alpha-male personality in the bluff, barrel-chested man.
“We always want to talk with families when there’s been an unexpected death, even if ultimately it turns out to be accidental,” Pono said. “What can you tell us about Makoa’s activities in the last few days?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant to Makoa drowning in the surf,” Simmons growled. “I always told that boy surfing would be the death of him.”
Mrs. Simmons pulled away from her husband. “Shut up!” she screamed. “He loved what he did. He was a world champion! But nothing he did was ever good enough for you!”
Lei scrambled mentally for the information on the Simmons parents she’d quickly gathered on the way over. Rory was a contractor, a self-made millionaire who’d made his money building large housing tracts in Hawaii. Gail, his wife, was a former teacher who was busy with various charities. Apparently there was a long-standing disagreement about their son’s choice of career. Lei helped Gail get up and go to a separate chair.
“You two are in shock. Please take a little time to pull yourselves together,” Lei said. “Is there anyone who can come over and keep you company?”
“I called my sister and my best friend, Sally,” Gail said. She straightened her blouse and narrowed bloodshot eyes at her husband. “I don’t want to hear you say one more negative thing about Makoa’s surfing again.”
“I’ll say whatever I like,” Rory said. A cord stood out from his cheek; Lei could see he was clenching his jaw. “He was my son, too, though you always spoiled him.”
Lei looked helplessly at Pono just as the door opened again and two distraught women, Gail’s sister and friend, arrived.
Rory got up and stomped away down the hall. Pono followed him, trying to talk to him as he headed for some inner sanctum. Lei went back to the kitchen for more glasses of water.
She wasn’t able to get anything useful or coherent from the women, so she took herself back down the hall, only to meet Pono exiting Rory’s home office.
“We need to come back later,” he said briefly, and she nodded and followed him out. Taking charge of this interview wasn’t going well, and she wondered if it was because of her own grief. Sitting with the extreme emotions around her had her stomach in knots, and even though initial statements should always be taken right away, she just didn’t have the heart for it when they weren’t sure that this drowning was anything more than an accident.
Acknowledging that she was still hurting from the events three months ago was hard, but they’d had a lot to deal with. Their house burned down, a violent firefight raid, a hijacking—and worst of all, her miscarriage. She’d carried on, but didn’t feel the same. Coming up soon, she had to go to the Big Island to testify in the trial of her enemy. Her stomach clenched at the thought.
Pono’s truck had almost been blocked in by other vehicles, but with some creative maneuvering they got out of the driveway and headed back toward Kahului.
“That went about as good as could be expected,” Lei said.
“Yeah.”
“Did you get anything off the dad?”
“Not really, nothing more than was obvious in the living room. He didn’t agree with his son’s choice of career and the mother supported it.” Pono rubbed his lips under the short, bristling mustache he sported, a habit he had when troubled. “We need to go back when they’ve settled down a little.”
“I’ll feel better taking a shovel to that shit pile when we know what the ME says about cause of death. No sense stirring all the issues if it was an accident.”
“Agree.”
Back at the station, Lei organized her notes, and side-by-side, Lei and Pono built the case file. Lei was happy to be back partnering with her oldest friend on the force. Captain Omura had reassigned them for a time, but continued restructuring in the department and both their continued requests had gotten them back together. Lei had liked all her other partners—Jack Jenkins on Kauai, Ken Watanabe when she was
in the FBI on Oahu, and Abe Torufu while she did a brief stint on the bomb squad—but she and Pono knew each other so well that they worked smoothly and quickly on everything from paperwork to interviews.
“I’m going to call Dr. Gregory. See if he’s got anything off the body yet. We need to keep working the case hard for the next twenty-four if it’s a homicide. If it’s not looking that way, it’s not as important to chase down that windsurf van today,” Lei said.
“Right.” Pono was uploading the photos he’d taken at the scene.
Lei used her desk phone to call the morgue. “Hey, Doc,” she said when Gregory answered. “I know it’s early, but are you getting anything off the body to indicate homicide? Because if so, we’ve got some leads we should follow up on.”
“Just a minute. I was grabbing a bite to eat at my desk.”
Lei squinched her eyes shut, picturing his desk in the corner of the big, open room full of bodies on tables in various stages of dismemberment. To Gregory’s credit, the doc had a folding screen separating his work area—but still, the smells alone were enough to put Lei off food for hours.
“Okay. Yeah. We haven’t had time to open Simmons up yet, but I found bruising on his throat and the top of his head, hair pulled out even. The more hours that pass, the more we’ll be able to see the soft-tissue damage on the body. But it looks like someone could have grabbed him by the neck and head. Probably held him underwater.”
“Oh, damn,” Lei said faintly. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she’d been hoping the surf champion’s death was accidental. Murder was going to amplify the tragedy of the young surf star’s death and stir up the close-knit surfing community even more.
“I’ll know more when I open him up and check his lungs, but so far everything else is indicative of drowning as cause of death.”
“Okay. Thanks. We’ll move on this right away.”
“I’ll put him at the front of the autopsy line. I know this kid was high profile. I’ll give you a call as soon as I have anything more.”
“Appreciate that.” Lei hung up and turned to Pono. “Possible homicide. We’d better brief the captain and find that van.”
Stevens pulled up the driveway to their property out in rural Haiku; an area dominated by jungle and large eucalyptus robusta trees, brought over to Hawaii in a mistaken attempt to grow a lumber crop and now dominating the landscape of that area. He punched the code into the gate and the ten-foot-tall cedar edifice retracted, flush with the wall that circled their two-acre property. He drove the rest of the way through a grove of fruit trees and parked in the open garage area that had been one of the first things completed on the new house.
Keiki, their Rottweiler, greeted him with a single bark, pressing in against his leg as he opened the door of his Bronco.
“Hey, old girl.” He stroked her head and played with her silky ears. Keiki hadn’t been the same since the house fire, when she’d been traumatized as well as burned. Her energy just seemed lower. But now she scented Ellen and sniffed loudly, shooting Stevens a glance as if in question. “Yeah. My mom’s here.”
His mother was still asleep in her seat, so Stevens took a moment to look around. His father-in-law’s cottage, where they were all currently residing, was a cheerful little home with a sheltered front porch and two red hibiscus bushes bracketing its steps. Beside him the harsh-looking concrete walls of their new house, built for security and stability rather than looks, were complete. They’d spent extra for a terra-cotta-colored, metal tile roof. Pretty soon, the stucco guys would come and apply exterior texture that would make the house, currently looking like a barracks, more attractive.
Stevens didn’t much care what it looked like. After living through two fires, he just wanted to sleep in a place where that particular nightmare would never happen again, and if it cost more and took longer, his nightmares might at least decrease.
He reached over and shook his mother’s shoulder gently. Her bones felt brittle under his hand. “Mom. Wake up. We’re here.”
Ellen sat up, blinking, and he got out and came around to get her backpack and open her door, surprised when he saw moisture in her eyes as he took her hand to help her out of the seat.
“Thanks, Michael,” she said. “You know how to treat a woman. I’m thankful.”
Keiki sniffed around her legs and slowly wagged her stump of tail as Ellen stepped out of the truck with dignity. Stevens felt a tug of soft nostalgia as she took his arm.
“Where are you putting me?”
“Well, that’s the thing.” Stevens gestured to the looming bulk of the house beside them. “We’re still under construction here after a house fire, so we’re going to have to put you in a tent out in the yard.”
He led her across the smoothly mowed lawn, which Wayne kept shipshape, to a large tent, already set up with an air mattress in it, back behind a mango tree. He and Lei slept out there when they needed more privacy than the tight quarters of Wayne’s cottage provided, and it was also a fun place for Kiet to play.
“This is nice,” she said, looking around the interior, furnished with a patterned rug, a chair and camp table, the already-made bed, and a playpen filled with toys for Kiet.
“Yeah, this is our little getaway when any of us thinks the cottage is getting too cozy,” Stevens said. “You’ll have to go in the new house for the bathroom, though, but at least the plumbing is in and working there. We’re a ways away from being able to move into it.”
Stevens decided not to say more, wondering how long she was planning to stay and afraid to ask. He set her backpack down next to the desk and couldn’t miss the longing glance she cast at the bed, like she just wanted to get in and sleep.
“Come meet Wayne. We’d be lost without his help with the baby.”
Ellen followed him across the yard, silent as he pointed out the various kinds of fruit trees on the property: breadfruit, mango, Hawaiian orange, macadamia, tangerines, and a stand of coffee and cacao trees in one corner, which were Wayne’s experimental project.
Wayne met them on the porch, Kiet, crowing with delight, in his arms. The older man’s gaze sharpened as he shook Ellen’s hand and took in her appearance.
“Pleased to have you visit,” he said graciously. “This is Kiet. Our grandbaby.”
Stevens took the child into his arms. His mother stared at the baby as if mesmerized. “Kiet Edward Mookjai Stevens,” Stevens said deliberately, so Ellen would know that he’d given Kiet his father’s name.
“He’s beautiful,” she breathed. Stevens knew it was true. His son gazed at his grandmother from remarkable jade-colored eyes. His thick black hair shone in the sun, and his skin was the color of taffy. The baby extended a chubby, dimpled hand to reach for Ellen, and she reached for him as well.
Stevens hadn’t anticipated the emotion that would tighten his chest and clog his throat as he handed his mother her grandchild for the first time. But it was there, and it was as real as her thin arms, which encircled the child as she buried her face in his tender neck. Kiet swiveled back toward Stevens, uncertain, and then, as if deciding to sample the wares, he patted Ellen’s head.
She sat down in a nearby rocker with the baby in her arms, and Wayne cleared his throat. “I’ll throw some extra food together for dinner. Jared coming?”
“Thanks, Wayne. We hope he’ll make it.”
“I just needed to see my boys,” Ellen said. “I didn’t know any of this was going on.” Her voice was muffled in the baby’s neck.
“Well, better late than never, right?” Gentle humor in Wayne’s voice took any sting out of the words. “We’ve been through a rough time in the last six months.”
“I’m glad to be here,” Ellen said, rocking Kiet.
“Good to have you,” Wayne said. “Mike, can I have a word?”
Stevens followed his tall, rangy father-in-law back into the house, and the man turned to him in the tiny kitchen, pitching his voice low as he ran a hand through salt-and-pepper curls.
“An alcoholic, like I told you a while ago,” Stevens said. “Still drinking and smoking, from what I can tell so far.”
Wayne frowned, his dark eyes worried. “I bet she’s got something more going on.”
“Jared’s pissed at her. I’m not sure he’s coming to dinner tonight, but I’m sure we’ll find out more. I don’t know how long she’s going to be staying.” Stevens felt the familiar frustration and worry thinking about his mother brought. “We can put the screen tent up on the lawn so we can all sit down together.”
“Got some laulau stashed in the freezer for a rainy day,” Wayne said. “You better give Lei a heads-up.”
“I left her a message.” Stevens looked down at his phone, clipped on his belt and vibrating. “Speaking of…” He answered the phone and went back onto the porch as Wayne took a foil-wrapped packet out of the freezer.
His mother was rocking Kiet on the porch, humming a little melody that Stevens recognized in some deep place as he took the call from his wife. Her voice sounded tight with tension.
“Pulled a homicide. I won’t be home until late. We have to dig in hard until we run out of leads. It’s Makoa Simmons. Looks like he was drowned on purpose out at Ho`okipa.”
“Oh crap.” Stevens walked down onto the grass and out to the metal storage shed where they kept the screen tent and foldable table and chairs. “That’s just tragic.”
“I know.” Lei sighed. He could picture her rubbing the medallion she wore on a chain around her neck, a habit she had when she was stressed. “How’s it going with your mom?”
He’d reached the toolshed, a simple metal structure, and pushed the sliding door open, taking out the long plastic bag that held the tent.
“She’s not too well. Really skinny and seems exhausted. She bought a one-way ticket over.”
A long pause as Lei thought this over. “Is she staying long?”
“I don’t plan for her to.” Stevens blew out a breath. “But she doesn’t seem to have anywhere to go.”